


something's gotta give

by orphan_account



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unresolved Romantic/Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don’t pretend you don’t remember it. We were friends when we were kids.”</p><p>“We’re friends with everyone when we are kids.” Nico laughs humorlessly. “I remember 2008. That was good,” He says, and smiles sadly. “That was the best year.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	something's gotta give

 

“This,” Toto points to both of them. “Can’t keep happening. Not again, we can’t take another year of this.”

Lewis rolls his eyes, Nico looks ahead like he’s seeing through their boss. It’s all very mature.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? You said that yourself,” Nico says, false calmness not containing a bit of venom in his words. “We can’t be friends, too bad. Life goes on.”

“Does it, though? Because it doesn’t seem to.” Toto says, firmly. He’s having none of their bullshit today, Lewis sees. “We don’t need you to be best friends, we need you to not be hostile to each other all the fucking time, so we can concentrate on racing instead of press gossip.”

Lewis takes a deep breath. He’d been trying really, really hard to not let things get to him and focus on himself, tune everything out but his race. But he’d forgotten this was Mercedes, and sitting beside him was Nico, and going a season without partying would be easier than going a season without drama.

“What happened to the ‘we can’t force them to get along’ speech? Come on, man—“

“Niki says that, not me,” Toto shrugs. “And that was before it started affecting the race. You know that if it was only up to me, I’d lock both of you in a room to solve your bullshit emotional problems like five year olds, staring at the wall until you were ready to apologize.”

Lewis keeps his face stone cold. “ _My_ race is just fine.” Nico snorts, muttering an ‘of course’ under his breath. Lewis knew that was a low blow.

Toto holds a finger up, as if to shut them both up. “This is non-negotiable. Play nice to the press; stop trying to get a rise out of each other. Stop whining about lost friendship and grow up, for fuck’s sake. We don’t want any more of this until you’re at a safe distance from Ferrari on the table, do we?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, leaving them both alone and annoyed in the conference room.

“Nice talk,” Nico mutters ironically.

“Well, someone here actually needed it.” Lewis replies too quickly as he stands up to leave, letting self-control slip away for a second. Deep breaths, he reminds himself. “You know I didn’t compromise your race on purpose.” It was true, although he was sure it was of no use telling Nico that.

“Wouldn’t be beneath you, would it? Help your buddy Vettel out.”

Lewis laughs. “Sure, right. Because fighting you is so important to me that I’d harm my own team to see you doing badly. Wouldn’t be beneath me, would it?”

Nico is taken aback for a second, and Lewis almost thinks he isn’t going to answer. Almost. “Now team is important, I see. Because _‘team’_ is only there to back you up, make sure you’re first. Would _you_ back _me_ up if I was first? No, because it’s not your job to look after my race, right?”

“But is it?” Lewis snorts. “Want me to give you a lift? Besides, Nico, if you want to know whether I would back you up or not, you might have to actually try and get me out there instead of settling for second like you’ve been doing lately.”

Nico laughs bitterly, and as much as he tries to hide it, Lewis can see he’s hurt, can see right through him. It seems as if the more they he tries to avoid it, the more they hurt each other lately.

“See, there it is. Bet you’ve been dying to say that for some time now.”

“Not particularly, considering I don’t care,” Lewis shrugs. “But maybe I should have done it earlier, if that would get me some competition back.”

He doesn’t watch Nico’s face as he leaves, and ignores the sick feeling on the pit of his stomach after the anger and frustration are gone; all there’s left is a bitter taste in his mouth and the things he actually wanted to say.

-

Because he’s stubborn, Lewis plays nice and friendly to the cameras with Sebastian instead. It’s not hard, because he’d gotten closer to the other German, and can’t bring himself to dislike him even when he shows himself to be a threat to his podium. Something about an Asshole Union, or whatever Jenson had called them.  

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Sebastian says when they’re devouring more food than they should at the barbecue set up for all teams in Bahrain. Nico is away from them, with an interview and Mercedes’ social media people.

Lewis rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his sparkly water. “He comes at me, I push back. It’s how it works. What would you suggest?”

“I don’t know, actually,” Sebastian looks thoughtful. “Kimi and I get along very well. A lot of banter, sure, but we like each other a lot.”

“Cool, that was very helpful, man.” Lewis says ironically, stabs a piece of broccoli more forcefully than needed.

“Oh, that wasn’t rhetorical? You actually want advice to get along with him?” The smile on Sebastian’s face makes Lewis want to punch him.

Lewis rolls his eyes once again. “Fuck off, I didn’t say that. I don’t want marriage advice from you and Raikkonen.”

The little shit doesn’t even flinch. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just—We would be a better married couple than you and Nico, considering–”

“This is getting really weird, stop,” Lewis shakes his head.

Sebastian laughs at his agony. “It’s just that Kimi and I are really in sync.”

“That’s too much information, man, Jesus fucking Christ. I should’ve sat with him. At least he would’ve ignored me.”

“I have a theory that you literally can’t be ignored for more than five minutes,” Sebastian shrugs. “I think you’d actually cry; I need to test that one day. Has Nico been ignoring you, lately?”

“I’m going to punch you in the face. There are cameras everywhere; press will have a field day. Maybe that’ll help getting the focus out of me and Nico.”

“Hey now, violence is not the answer,” Sebastian pats his shoulder. “Besides, I really do care. I’m the one in the awkward position between you two on the podium and press conference room.”

“How altruist of you. I hope Massa is third tomorrow, so he can save you from the trouble.” Lewis smiles without showing his teeth. It’s Sebastian’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You don’t even like Massa, don’t hurt my feelings.”

“That’s what friends do, buddy,” Lewis hands Sebastian his water. The German shakes his head, smirk on his face.

“You have a very distorted idea of what friends do. I have no idea why you and Nico don’t get along anymore, since he’s the same.”

And Lewis is pissed, because he doesn’t have a smartass response to that, so he sips his water and tries not to watch Nico when he isn’t looking.

-

He doesn’t see it until he’s back in London. He remembers how Nicolas always says over the phone that he shouldn’t read or watch Nico’s interviews, or any interviews from other drivers, because little things can get to him and sometimes Lewis can be a dog with a bone. It’s there when he opens his e-mail though, because of the stupid alert he put in case things between them got too bad over the press and they needed to do some damage control. There’s a good paragraph of Nico’s words about him, so he ignores his brother’s voice in his head and swallows past the lump on his throat.

 

_‘I know exactly how he is functioning. I understand him really, really well. All his attitudes, I can tell why he is doing whatever he is doing. Sometimes he annoys me. Some character traits.’_

 

The first two lines are already enough to make him want to throw his phone on his couch or table and forget about the whole thing, but he knows it’s true; knows it because it’s the same with him. It’s ironic and cruel and unfair that they know each other better than anyone else. It shouldn’t be like that, not when they’re barely friends, not when they can’t go two days without being assholes to each other. Against his better judgment, he continues reading. Coco senses something’s wrong, because she hops on the bed and curls up by his side.

 

_‘Lewis and I are going through a difficult period. We cannot totally be friends. We go through ups and downs. We are only speaking when we need to but sometimes we have a laugh together. We have so much to do with each other. We karted together. We are here together.’_

 

There it is. He can’t see Nico’s face as he said that but he knows it’s not just a rehearsed answer to the press, knows it’s genuine. It infuriates him, that they can’t stop arguing long enough to say these things face to face. He opens his contact list, thumb hovering over Nico’s name. Coco whines at his side, snapping him out of it. He locks his phone and leaves it on the bed as he goes outside.

-

He decides is more good luck than bad that Vivian is coming back for her morning run at the exact time he arrives home. She’s sweaty and glowing and happy, smiles at him like he’s an old friend that she hasn’t seen in weeks.

“Lewis, honey, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in person in ages! I’d hug you, but I’m all sweaty and disgusting.” She says, and seems delighted that he’s there. He’s a bit embarrassed, always is when it comes to Vivian, because she’s nothing but genuinely friendly and polite, despite whatever happens between Lewis and her husband. She bends down to scratch Coco behind her ears.

“Yeah, I’m not coming home much lately, keeping myself busy.” He can’t help but looking at her belly, already showing enough and making her look better than ever. “You look great.”

She makes a face at him. “Well, they say pregnancy does make a woman glow, but I can assure you that’s only on the outside.”

Lewis laughs genuinely at that, remembers how his sister used to complain about a lot of things when she was pregnant, too. “Are you feeling better, by the way?”

“Ah, yes, thank you for asking,” She nods, then proceeds on rolling her eyes. “Nico has been treating me like I’m made of glass, which is hilarious at times, but annoying mostly.”

“You could kick his ass, he’s forgetting that.” The elevator doors opens, and Lewis holds it as she steps inside. He follows, picking Coco up, lazy dog she was.

“I could,” She laughs, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “But I’m giving him a free pass. He’s been having it worse than me.”

There are two seconds of awkward silence, both knowing well enough Lewis was a big part of the reason for that.

“How are you, Lewis?” She asks, genuine concern in her voice, and Lewis can’t find it in himself to lie to her.

“I don’t know Viv,” He sighs. “I honestly don’t know. Everything is feeling a bit out of place right now.”

Vivian nods, puts a hand in his arm, and somehow he knows she understands what he means when he says everything. Before she can say anything, give him whatever comfort she saw fit, the door slides open on his floor.

“See you around, Viv. Take care of yourself and that little one, yeah?”

“I will,” She smiles sadly. “Take care of yourself, Lewis. For your sake, and Nico’s, too.”

He’s too afraid to ask what she means, so he nods and turns away.

-

Lewis dreads his apartment nowadays. It’s too empty and dark, and he’s not about that. He curses Sebastian in his mind for his stupid joke, curses himself for feeling lonely and pathetic and knows it’s his fault, all his. He doesn’t last two days until he’s calling up acquaintances and colleagues and friends that don’t really know him that well, and books a flight to Spain.

His doorbell rings when he’s packed up and ready to leave, and Nico is there when he opens it.

“You’re leaving again.” He says, doesn’t ask. Lewis nods, but doesn’t invite him in. There’s no reason to. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

Lewis refrains from snapping at him, because Nico sounded more curious than judging. “I get tired of being here.”

“You don’t have to leave because of me.” He says, and Lewis thinks he’s crazy before he believes Nico had just made a joke.

“I know it’s shocking, but my life doesn’t actually revolve around you.” Lewis replies, but he knows it’s a half lie. They both know. Nico leans back against one side of his doorframe as he watches Lewis grab a few things around and throw them in a backpack.

“Do you really have to go?” Nico says, but helps Lewis grab one of his suitcases out of the house.

“Yes. In fact, I need to go now, or I’ll be late for my flight.”

“You have a private jet.” Nico deadpans.

“Doesn’t mean I keep my people waiting.” Lewis shrugs. “See you three weeks.”

Nico nods. “Ok,” He says, but looks at Lewis as if he wants to say more. “Ok.” He repeats, does the unimaginable, wraps both his arms around Lewis and hugs him, tight and comforting and suffocating. Lewis hugs back for a second, even though his mind keeps saying ‘ _I can’t do this, not now, not now’_. He holds on for another second before he pushes away, locks his door and leaves.

He travels and forgets about home. In a span of a week and a half he goes from Spain to Paris, and then London, Vegas, New York, Los Angeles. He’s Lewis Hamilton, he goes out and parties and gets seen. He meets his famous friends and instagrams about it. He forgets an empty home and forgets Nico while he can and forgets he feels like shit between this party and this event and then the next. When it’s time, he goes back to Spain and throws himself into work, discusses tires strategies and mechanics of his car and drives, drives, drives. He exhausts himself and pretends he stops thinking.

-

They play nice, every now and then, little things that keep everyone talking about how no matter how much they fight, they’re still the same childhood friends they were before. They spray Champagne and do interviews together and it’s fine. It’s effortless, even if they’re pretending, and it earns a nod from Toto and a snort from Niki so it works.

It works until it doesn’t, until it triggers something, like a memory or a scent; it works until it works too much and they get too familiar, too close, and they know it can only end in two ways. They know.

“This isn’t working,” Lewis says over lunch, in a private room away from a heated paddock. “This pretending to be friends thing.”

Nico is silent for several moments, stabbing his grilled chicken like Lewis hasn’t said anything.

“Were we ever? It’s hard to remember. If we were ever really friends, I mean.” He says. Lewis wonders how, because that wasn’t easy to forget, years and years of being _there_ and making it to the top _together._ He wonders what kind of mind games he’s playing this time.

“You know we were. Don’t pretend like you don’t remember. We were friends when we were kids.”

“We’re friends with everyone when we are kids.” Nico laughs humorlessly. “I remember 2008. That was good,” He says, and smiles sadly. “That was the best year.”

“We were friends in 2008.” Lewis says.

“We were… Something, yes.” Nico nods. “We were happy, and stupid kids and proud.”

Lewis shakes his head. “You were my best friend. That’s what I remember.”

Nico doesn’t answer that, not for minutes, not until after they’ve finished eating and are resting before they have to be out there again.

“I don’t think we were friends. I think we’ve just always tried very hard to be.”

Lewis sighs, gives up. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t remember it the way you do. I don’t think there was ever a point I looked at you and thought of you as my best friend.”

Lewis pretends that doesn’t hurt more than anything Nico’s ever said to him. He isn’t letting him get to him so easily. “Thanks, that’s sweet.” He snorts.

“It’s because I was in love with you, you know? I think you do. _That’s_ what I remember, being in love with you.” Nico says, like he’s telling Lewis some old story, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. “I remember kissing you when I was thirteen, and I remember fighting you until we were out of breath when I was fifteen. I had been in love with you then, and I was in love with you in 2008. When we sneaked into each other’s hotel rooms and when we fucked euphoria and frustration out.”

“What about Vivian?” He asks dumbly. It’s the only thing he manages out.

Nico laughs, his face softens. “When I wake up and Vivian is there, complaining about mornings and making me cook breakfast, I realize how much I love her, and that’s every day. I look at her and everything we’re building together and the family we’re going to have, and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But in the end, it doesn’t erase anything. It doesn’t erase you, and she knows that. She understands it.”

“What about now?”

“I don’t know,” Nico sighs. “I don’t want to know.”

Lewis feels dizzy, as if he had just woken up sick or hangover, and Nico is looking at him with pity, and Lewis doesn’t know if he can take anything else.

“Jesus Christ, Nico, you can’t just do that, you can’t just tell me that—“

“But you deserve to know. It’s, you know, because I know this is fucking you up and you need to cut it lose. These strings you think that are attaching us to each other, you need to let it go, because we’re not going to be friends again. You don’t have to be worried about our next big fight, which we know it will happen.”

Lewis looks at him and he hates that his eyes are burning, hates that Nico is standing there making him feel the worst pain he’s ever felt and acting like he’s doing him a favor. Lewis looks at him and he remembers, too, remembers looking at Nico and feeling a tightness in his chest, like he was running out of air. He remembers, but it’s unfair to say it, because he doesn’t know, he never thought he’d been in love with anyone but Nicole before. Even that, even Nicole felt different, even the hurt didn’t feel like this. Lewis didn’t know anything anymore, anything but the ground opening beneath his feet and swallowing him whole.

“We have nothing left, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Nico says, and he means it. Lewis is sorry, too.

-

They don’t talk much for the following weeks. Life seems to go on around him, he races and never stops home. He thinks about moving back to London, but never gets around to do it, out of laziness or mostly the certainty that it won’t change anything. It won’t change him. He sees Vivian once or twice and gets asked to dinner the same night, gives a ‘maybe next week’ answer every time, to which Vivian nods sadly, because she knows it’ll never come.

He calls Sebastian sometimes, because he doesn’t party with him or hangs out with him out of work, but that means those aren’t the things that keep them close so it’s okay, he tells himself, it’s okay because he doesn’t judge or act like Lewis is suffering from never ending sadness and loneliness.

He wins the most, and that’s good, it fills the void and gives him a purpose that won’t get old anytime soon. Nico is always there, though, always a glance away, and he looks worried about Lewis but never says anything, even though he knows. He knows.

Nico wins, too, although Lewis is still the favorite, and one of those times he throws his arms around Lewis out of euphoria, he laughs into Lewis’ ear and it nearly knocks him off balance, the contact, pulling him in like suddenly Nico is essential. It doesn’t last, of course it doesn’t.

The next day, he wakes up feeling like shit, but drags himself out of bed like every other day, because it has become routine now. It’ll pass, he tells himself. He gets dressed goes for breakfast and Nico’s saved him a seat on the team’s table. He misses him, even though he still sees him more than not, even though he’s constantly at an arm’s reach, he misses him terribly. He’d take fighting and hating each other over truce and hopeless distance that only grows any day. He never tells Nico that, never tells him anything.

It’ll pass he tells himself, it has to. If he wishes hard enough, something’s gotta give.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i was presented with the opportunity to write cute disgusting teeth rotting fluff so i took a wrong turn and this happened. oops.


End file.
